Behind the Blindfold
by dracosblondiegirl
Summary: Fooled by an undercover Death Eater, Hermione is captured and brought before the Dark Lord, but is he all he seems to be? Tom/Hermione Voldemort/Hermione
1. Behind The Blindfold: Volume I

Behind The Blindfold by LadyVoldemort87/Dracosblondiegirl

She knew she shouldn't have come out, but the wide open space was just too much of a temptation to her. A simple routine check of the Orders boundaries for watching Death Eaters seemed like a welcome relief for the researched out bookworm. Just a little walk round the perimeters of the house, to double check the wards and enchantments that hid the newly built Order headquarters. She breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped into the open air, she raised her hands up over her head and stretched. It felt so good to be out in the warm summer breeze.

She disillusioned her self and walked languidly around the property. Dressed in her Order standard issue uniform, she was ready for combat if she needed to be. She neared the back of the courtyard when she saw the flash of a black cloak, she ran quickly in the direction of the intruder and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Remus Lupin, returning from his nightly watch of Grimmauld Place. The Order had long since disbanded the former Black residence after the trio had inadvertently revealed it's location to the Death Eaters. Dumbledore had found a seemingly larger property that belonged to Harry's Grandparents, left to his late father James. Harry had been more than pleased to offer Dumbledore the mansion like house, that looked very much in the right place in the quiet area of Duff Town.

She walked toward the cloaked Remus, and sat down next to him, watching him with interest as he smoked a wizard cigarette, its multicoloured smoke billowing in the warm air. She had never seen him smoke before, and it intrigued her. In these past few months, she had discovered a lot of things she never knew about Remus, in the midst of the tragic death of Tonks, bringing out the almost forgotten marauder side of the werewolf. He smirked as she watched entranced as he drew the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled deeply.

She reached out her hand, in a silent gesture asking for a cigarette and Remus laughed, considering her question before reaching out and offering her the packet. As she reached out and touched the packet, Remus' eyes flashed turning a cool grey colour, and suddenly she was spinning. Her stomach lurched uncontrollably and colours flashed before her eyes, her mind throbbed with uncertainty and she cried out as she landed. Her stomach lurched several times as she dry heaved onto a cold stone floor.

As she wiped her mouth, Hermione looked around as panic set in. There, standing in a circle around her, were several masked and cloaked Death Eaters. Hermione's head jolted from side to side as she desperately assessed her situation, but in all the while, the Death Eaters remained stationary around her. Her heart pounded wildly, thrusting against her breast bone almost violently as her mind span millions of thoughts round like a world on it axis.

Death Eaters. Remus. Voldemort. Harry. Oh Harry! He had warned her not to leave the house, practically begged her. Stubborn as she was she refused to be held captive, craving the outside world, refusing to believe she was anything but safe in the protective bubble that Dumbledore had created. How wrong she had been, where was cautious, level headed Hermione? IThat/I was what she really wanted to know.

Suddenly, the Death Eaters dropped to their knees, several cried out in pain as the tall imposing figure of Lord Voldemort stepped into the room. Hermione's breath hitched in her throat, and for a second she forgot to breathe. He circled her like a snake sizing up it's prey, his murderous red eyes ran greedily up and down her body. He turned away from her for a split second before he turned his wand on her, whispering, "Crucio!".

Hermione felt as if her body had been doused and set alight, her skin burned and her muscles twisted and contorted. She rose up almost gracefully as her back arched of the floor, and she let out a blood curdling scream. Voldemort ended the curse and clapped, laughing coldly.

"Excellent, Miss Granger, almost two full minutes with no sound." he grinned, exposing his abnormally white teeth.

But she couldn't hear him, her mind was far away. She saw her Harry, pacing, being watched by a grave Dumbledore, Ronald staring desolately into a cooling cup of tea. Did they know that she was gone? She felt several prodding's at her body, and she withdrew from her subconscious. She fought the urge to whimper as she picked up by a strong pair of arms, who carried her, like a bride through the masses of watching Death Eaters.

She wearily opened her eyes and was immediately met with darkness, too weak to raise her arms, she presumed she was blind-folded. She felt Harry calling to her, their link like a spike of electricity through her body. He throat felt raw as she tried to talk and was immediately shushed, by a man with a seemingly familiar voice.

"You will do well to stay quiet, Miss Granger, Order heroics will save you now." said the man.

"Professor Snape?" she asked.

"Quiet, child. The Dark Lord for see's a use for you, you will not deny him."

Hermione was too weak to argue, Snape placed her on a large bed and promptly left, leaving Hermione confused and in severe pain. It seemed like several hours later when she heard the door open once more, and she felt an unfamiliar thrum in the pit of her stomach, it felt almost like a pang of desire, and she moaned, totally unexpected by both occupiers of the room. She smelt the masculine spicy sent of man, his delicious musky smell over powered her.

The feeling built as she felt the unknown man move closer, and she felt a slight dip, as the person set themselves down on the end of the bed. She felt fingers dance over her calves and she writhed under the unknown touch. Fingers crept slowly up her legs and ran smoothly across her stomach, feeling her muscles flex under the pad of his thumb, he moved higher to cup the under side of her breast.

She leaned in toward his touch as her mind scolded her, telling her to move away, resist temptation. But the lure of this mans scent was intoxicating, calling to her animalistic nature, sniffing out her depraved thoughts and acting on them. The tips of his fingers lightly worked the tip of her nipple into a stiffened peak and she felt a hot mouth surround her hardened nub and she bit her lip to stop herself crying out.

Think of Harry, her mind said, warning her, but Harry was no where to be found in her mind at this very moment. Her thoughts were only of this delicious stranger. Oh exquisite torture! The gods be damned, his touch was utopia! She cried out as he bit down hard on her tightened nipple, soothing it almost immediately with his hot talented tongue. She let her mind drift, and imagined this man, his faced seemed to swim before her eyes. A devastatingly handsome young man, silky black hair, with dark green eyes. He couldn't be much older than her.

She was drawn from her thoughts by an impatient tut, and she shivered as she felt his hot breath on the shell of her ear, and gasped when she felt his wet tongue run sensually down and nip delicately with his sharp teeth. His mouth enveloped her earlobe and he sucked it hard into his warmth, and she cried out once more as the thrum of pleasure in her stomach spiked.

"What..Who…" she said breathlessly , stopping when a finger came up against her lips silencing her immediately.

She nearly screamed as she felt his lips descend over hers, biting and sucking her tongue into submission. She tried to breathe and opened her mouth wider breathing him in, she could feel his evident arousal through her lightweight black pants, and groaned when he ground himself into her painfully aroused pussy.

"Do you want this?" a husky voice whispered in her ear.

What was making her feel like this? Whoever this man was, he set her soul on fire with a mere touch of his fingers. She had never felt so wanton in her life, she was positively aching for him to fill her, taste her, touch her where she needed him the most.

"I said, do you want this?" he asked once more, and she nodded her head quickly.

He reached down and rubbed her the outline of her pussy through her pants. He could feel the soft shape of her mound through her thin pants and worked his fingers in the crease of her pussy rubbing her knickers into her aching clit, causing Hermione to shriek into his mouth. He continued to rub her until she came to a mind-blowing climax, leaving her shaking and sobbing.

The man smirked and stood, leaving Hermione quietly sobbing on the bed, he turned and looked back on the blindfolded girl, his green eyes dancing with desire, and blew a kiss to her, before closing the door behind him.

His fingers prodded and poked at her entrance vigorously as he licked and sucked on her pussy, wanting to taste all he could. His tongue teased her engorged little clit and she cried out as he took it into his mouth and sucked on it hard. Her hands flew down and fisted in his hair as she shattered around his fingers, clamping down upon them like a vice grip.

He captured her lips, allowing her to taste herself as he kissed her, his tongue found every crevice within her mouth and memorised it. He kissed her languidly and with unlimited passion, memorising her taste, the way she moved her tongue in time with his, and the way her feet rubbed his ankles as he fucked her mouth.

Hermione didn't know how long she had been captured by the Dark Lord, infact she had no concept of night and day at all. He had visited her several times, each time stopping to abuse and violate her mind, taking a little of her soul each time he did so. But Voldemort never raised his wand to her again after the first time he cursed her, this surprised Hermione, who assumed he would curse her into insanity, just to have something to hold over Harry.

Her mystery lover had visited her each and every night, since she had been a captive of Lord Voldemort, and her feeling for this man where becoming more and more intense. She couldn't believe how pathetic she seemed. Falling for a man she had never even seen before, yet he had intimate knowledge of her body. He had taken her to the most dizzying heights, gave her orgasm after orgasm, without even being inside her. It was all about her, she had never touched him, he would come to her, touch her, kiss her, sometimes hold her and leave. She always saw him as the handsome man with the most amazing green eyes.

Lord Voldemort was fast becoming bored with her, and she knew one way or another she was going die. He had no reason to keep her around. She was veritable goldmine of information, that he wanted to harvest more than anything, but she knew her Occlumency walls were too strong for even Voldemort to crack. Remus was long gone, a victim of the Death Eaters months ago, he had been cruelly and viciously killed, and imitated for months, Hermione wept the most for him. He had been her friend. She sank into her thoughts

There was one memory she replayed in her head over and over again. She constantly thought of Harry, his connection to her was weakening by the day and soon she knew it would be gone. She remembered the way Harry had held her in his arms when she sent her parents away, the way he had kissed her so gently, hidden away from prying eyes in the Burrows tall hedges. The day they had taken each others virginities under a blanket in the back yard of Potter Manor, the way he had held her all night, wanting to feel alive, when tomorrow they knew that they could be dead.

She loved Harry, heart and soul, he was her best friend and always would be. But this man was her weakness, whoever he was he knew what he was doing to her, he was making her fall for him and she knew it was bad. He was obviously a Death Eater, more than likely ordered by Voldemort to do this to her, to draw her in, to turn her.

She could feel Voldemort's presence before he even withdrew her blindfold, and looked up at him with glassy eyes as he stepped back, the black silk clutched in his hand. He looked different today, she thought. His red eyes seemed less foreboding for some reason and he seemed a lot more at ease with himself. He always seemed so highly strung whenever she had spoken with him in the past few weeks.

"Good evening, Miss Granger." he said as he took a seat at the end of her bed.

"You seem different tonight." she murmured.

He turned to her and looked at her, she was not overly beautiful, her hair was a mass of bouncy shiny curls, that some would call bushy. He on the other hand quite liked her hair, despite the younger Malfoy's slurs against it. Her eyes on the other hand, were a smooth butterscotch colour, and showed an age far beyond her years.

He looked directly into her eyes, and for the first time, she let him freely probe her mind, she was tired of fighting.

* * *

_She lay back and looked at the stars, Harry's hand slipped through hers and she gripped back tightly. She looked over toward him, and into those eyes that sparkled with emotion. She knew what he was thinking, she always knew, because she thought the very same thing herself. She wasn't surprised when Harry leaned over and kissed her softly, and she returned it with added desperation. She didn't want to die tomorrow or the next day and know she was never loved in the way she wanted to be the most._

_Their kisses turned into something more, and as Harry pushed into Hermione she knew it was right, she loved Harry more than anything in this world. She needed him to know how much she wanted him, how much she cared for him. They came together in a mass of blankets under a dark sky, knowing they had given each other a gift that they both would always treasure. _

_She was laying on a bed, a black blindfold covering her eyes as per usual, hands fisting into the dark head of hair between her legs. Her screams of ecstasy filling the room, as the man licked and sucked at her clit, as she ground her pussy into his face, begging him to let her come. The man sped up his licks and she came with a loud cry. The mans head rose and grinned at the sated girl._

* * *

Voldemort withdrew quickly as he felt the love flood Hermione's heart. The girl was in love with him! This was definitely not good. He never should have allowed himself to do this. But he wanted her and Lord Voldemort always gets what he wants. He stood and turned toward the small bathroom to his left, leaving Hermione alone. He quickly warded the outer door so she couldn't escape even if she tried.

He stood and looked at himself in the mirror. And for a second let his glamour fall. Gone where the red eyed snake features and the pale bone white skin. Instead stood a man, in his early twenties. Shiny black hair sat in waves smoothed over his forehead, pale clear skin and large dark green eyes looked back at him. He smirked slightly as he looked at himself. Not many people had the privilege of seeing the true face of Lord Voldemort. Severus had restored his natural looks, almost instantly after his rebirth, he had opted to keep the look, using a simple glamour when ever he addressed his Death Eaters, or whenever he met with captives.

He took time to transfigure his robes, before he stepped out into her room, she sat idly playing with a lock of hair not even bothering to look up at him. He grinned and cleared his throat. She looked up at him and her mouth dropped, the man of her fantasy's stood not a stones throw way. She blushed furiously and looked away for a second before looking back, he was still there and still staring at her with those amazing eyes.

He walked slowly toward her, drinking in her milky skin and perfect body. Her eyes shone brightly as he loomed over her, and she rose up hesitantly to kiss him.

"Do you know who I am?" he said.

"You are the Dark Lord."

"I am Tom Marvolo Riddle, Miss Granger, Also known as Lord Voldemort. I am cruel, cold and I will hurt you, but right now, I'm going to fuck you."

She moaned, and captured his lips once again, and he settled over her divesting his robes and hers as he moved. His hands dropped to her full, round breasts and he rolled her hardened nipple between his fingers as he kissed her. His lips left hers and trailed down her neck, latching on to her pulse point and sucking hard. She gasped and ran her hands down the smooth length that jabbed into her thigh, he was thick, long and perfect.

He moaned into her neck as she gripped his cock and began to pump it within her small hands, relishing in the supposed control she had over Lord Voldemort. He bit down on the juncture between her neck and shoulder as rubbed her thumb over the sensitive head of his cock, smoothing the small bubble of come that had formed there. He growled and pinned her to the bed, her wrists held above her head, tightly in his grip. His free hand reached down and fondled her wetness, testing her, preparing her for his hardness.

He entered her in one swift thrust and she screamed in delight. He could feel her pussy contracting slightly around his cock, as he moved within her. He let go of her hands and they flew around him as did her legs, clinging onto him for dear life, as he fucked her hard.

He placed his hand in the middle of her chest and whispered a spell, that she only partially heard before she felt it. Every part of her felt like she was on fire with arousal, she writhed underneath him, crying out, begging for him to make her come. He pinched her clit several times as she flew over the edge and clamped down hard on his cock, pulsing and contracting around his length milking him for all of his hot seed. He came within her in hot long spurts, groaning as he released her from the spell and dropped on to her.

"What was that?" she panted.

"The Cruciatus curse." he grinned.

She turned to him, visibly shocked.

"I am Lord Voldemort, darling, and I always reward those, who serve me well." he grinned as he swooped down on her once more.


	2. The Portal Of Epoh: Volume II

**The Portal of Epoh: Behind The Blindfold Volume II**

* * *

For most of his life, Voldemort had pondered on the power of love. Even as a young boy under Dumbledore's watchful eye, he had wondered what all the fuss was about. What was so great about love? Love made you do idiotic things, warped peoples beliefs, and befuddled the mind. Love was a meaningless and silly emotion in the eyes of Tom Marvolo Riddle. How could love possibly benefit him? He was the most powerful Dark Lord the Wizarding World had ever seen. Not that there had ever been a plausible Dark Lord before him, apart from the inferior Gellert Grindelwald, who was taken down by the Muggle loving fool, Dumbledore. Rumour had it that the two had been lovers in their day; it seemed love did not stop Dumbledore from standing against him.

Love did not save a person the way Voldemort had expected, a mother standing in front of a baby had robbed him of his physical body, but not of his soul. Yet when he had attempted to kill again, that first murder after his resurrection, he found himself hesitating. The sheer devotion of the couple that cowered before him galled him. He found no pleasure in taking the lives that sat before him. It felt like a menial kill, not one of vengeance or worth. Voldemort vowed that day to investigate love, and it is ever bothersome consequences.

It was a most peculiar feeling, that of triumph. It had been a long and laborious war, filled with death, mayhem and those things in-between. He had lost many an important servant during those long blood filled years, which still every now and again, brought a smile to his face. That war had been his crowing glory, and glorious it was. He had savoured the experience of taking down Harry Potter, and had drained every ounce of pleasure from the feeling of finally being free.

While most had thought him to be the one who was mainly at fault, few really knew of the involvement of a certain twinkle-eyed headmaster. As much as he loathed Potter, he knew the boy had been a pawn of nothing more than half a century of mistrust and dislike from his former Transfiguration teacher. It often crossed his mind that something had been amiss with the situation of which he had found himself a part of.

Never the less, the prophecy had indeed fallen into place. In addition, as the saying goes, neither could live while the other survived. He considered Potter to be a casualty of war, the boy did not really need to die, he had been given the chance many years go to come forth and be at one with his greatness. Nevertheless, like the Dumbledore groomed pet that he was, he had chose to fight, against a wizard of superior intellect, and with an unlimited knowledge of the Dark Arts. He never stood a chance, poor green-eyed fool.

Therefore, he ruled; ruled the Wizarding World with an iron fist and a cold heart. Given the choice of whether to conform to rule or to be put to death, some people can be surprisingly compliant. He had over 20 members of the Order of the Phoenix, under his watchful eye. Including a Miss Hermione Granger. What a bright spark she turned out to be! A fantastically talented witch, of supreme intellect. However, there was always something that caught his eye whenever it came to that bushy haired little Mudblood.

He supposed it had started when he first laid eyes on her, her pretty little face, flushed and dirtied from the fracas that had taken place in the Room of Death. His stomach had clenched in the most peculiar way when she looked at him, he had seen a slight quirk to her lips, as she looked him from head to toe. He thought for a second his glamour had slipped, until he saw the bone whiteness of his spider like hands.

He could hardly detect an ounce of fear when they had faced each other once again at the final battle. She had stood defiant next to Potter, her smirk faint but noticeable. When Potter cast the killing curse at his person, he had staggered a little, before standing back up to his full height. Potter looked a little dumfounded. He supposed he should not have really taunted him about the Horcruxes, but Potter needed to hear how he had failed. Did people really believe him to be that stupid? Seven Horcruxes? They would never be enough. There would always be one idiotic wizard who fancied himself to be the vanquisher of the Dark Lord, and he was not about to stand for that! So Voldemort had fashioned another two including a spectacularly hidden eighth Horcrux, hidden somewhere where nobody would ever think to look.

He could hardly blame Potter for finally believing that he could take him down, after all he had been brainwashed to the maximum by Dumbledore. Did the boy wonder really think the destruction of the pieces of his soul would go un-noticed? Surely not, a Horcrux was a powerful piece of magic, connected to the maker at all times.

Voldemort was pulled from his thoughts when a warm hand came to rest upon his bare stomach. He heard a small sigh of contentment, before the resuming of shallow breathing. He looked down and a warm feeling flooded him, a feeling that still slightly appalled him whenever it crept upon him like a lost Nifler in a dusty attic. He had truly come to adore the wonderful creature that slept beside him, his gloriously beautiful wife. He remembered how he had seduced her into submission, obscuring her sight and heightening the rest of her senses.

She had come to him a pretty innocent girl, and blossomed into a lust driven woman. He could describe the feelings her screams of ecstasy inspired within him, each and every one made him want to bellow with triumph. HE had claimed Potter's prized Mudblood as his own, he had wedded and bedded the little hell cat before Potter could even blink. Out of all his plans, this one surely had been the best. He had never intended to become so infatuated with the girl, but then again his wife had a way of charming the birds from the trees so to speak.

The feelings this little wanton inspired within him made him question many things about himself. Surely the validation that came with being a ruler, overpowered his every sense of self-doubt? Evidently not. He still had niggling doubts about the most trivial of things; each more mundane that the last. It was not that he worried about much these days; he had people to that for him. No, it was the boredom that got to Lord Voldemort. He would spend hours just wondering about what the future held for him and his Lioness. Every now and then, his wife would catch him staring into space, a vacant look etched upon his face.

_____________

It was one of _those_ mornings he deduced when a warm hand wrapped round his flaccid cock. He felt the laborious breathing of his little Mudblood on his neck as she pressed her lips to the sensitive skin underneath his ear. He shuddered when he felt her tongue dart out and lick the length of his neck, coming to a halt, as she took his earlobe in her mouth. She squealed as he pounced on her pining her beneath him, his forest green eyes glowing brightly with desire. She bucked erratically as he ground into her, biting her lip to keep an errant moan from slipping from her plump lips.

Her blazing desire had never faltered since the day he removed the blindfold, of which he had used every time he had feasted upon the fruits of her flesh. The blindfold for him signified an erotic sense of blindness; she was at his mercy in the most carnal of ways. It excited him far more than he wanted to admit. Her sweet pleas for mercy were like spurs of encouragement; every whimper, every sigh pushed him to tweak her buttons until she snapped.

He wanted her so badly, he felt as if he was bewitched. A voice in his head screamed for him to spread her thighs and drink her sinful ambrosia until he was drowning in it. Another pleaded with him to hoist her onto all fours and plunge himself inside her silken cavern. A feat, which only he alone could ever do. He would have no other touch his wife.

He desired her more than he had ever desired anyone before; not even Bellatrix could compare to the feel of Hermione clenching and contracting around him, practically choking him. Her sheathe felt like heaven on earth; not that he believed in all that Muggle garbage, it just sprung to mind when he thought of his wife.

He kissed her lips savagely, tasting her delectable flavour and leaving her breathless. He hadn't even entered her and she was crying out…Ah, that little old thing called Sex Magic was a remarkable sight. He pinched her nipples harshly and her back arched off the bed. Her buds became swollen and tight as he unleashed wave after wave of stimulation toward her core. Oh yes, he was enjoying this so very much. The sadistic smirk upon his face was proof. He bared his teeth at his wife and she laughed brokenly, too caught up in the heat.

He wrapped his hands around her throat and pressed down hard as he entered her; groaning aloud when the scorching heat of her cunt gripped him in its boiling grasp. She cried out as he clamped down on her airway, and he could feel the excitement flowing through him as she came violently around him. He hadn't even moved within her; yet she had still shot off like a rocket as her need over came her. His wife was a dirty little witch, and together they enjoyed a variety of sexual sports, but the one they were currently experiencing was by far the best.

Her nails raked hellishly down his back and he bit his lip, tasting blood as he pushed himself to resist giving her what she wanted most. She wanted to see him raw, unleashed in his wildness as he tore through her, fucking her into submission. Yet he would not give in; his will would not allow him. He knew no weakness.

He shifted, withdrew and entered her again; the slapping of their skin the only sound within their room. He took her without mercy, knowing it excited her. He bit her, marking her as only he would. The tanginess of her blood made his head spin; the feeling of euphoria spread through him as he pushed through her orgasm. His little hellcat was a kinky madam, and he relished every single inch of her.

The scent of her release drove him wild, and he pounded into her; throwing her legs over her head and losing himself within her. She was quivering around him yet again, and her essence was dripping onto her bottom, and smearing on his thighs. He roared as his release gripped him tightly. He flooded her pussy as he came, and thrust deeply as his cock shuddered, the head pounding in exhaustion.

He practically fell on her; the ebbing intensity of his release subsiding slowly. He reached out to touch her, and felt the warmth of her hand pushing back his raven hair off his forehead. He smirked, knowing his wife still could not get enough of touching him made him feel like he was invincible. He craved those touches, that look in her eyes.

However, lately he had noticed his wife's attention slipping; she was spending an awful amount of time wandering through Hogwarts, where they now resided. He also found her playing a lot with the piece of his soul that she held around her neck; a Jade necklace in the shape of a large oval, which he had, took from his father's mother. It hung on an ornate platinum chain, which hung to just above Hermione's breasts. He knew that through the Horcrux he had a connection to her, almost like a muggle tracking device. He had to know where she was, at all times.

He had no qualms about being a control freak, it was his nature.

Therefore, when she rose late in the day, he paid no heed as she showered and dressed while he lay, back just watching her. She moved effortlessly, charming her hair, slipping on her satin pumps and sashaying out of the door to their apartments. He whispered a spell to activate the Horcrux, and he felt the slight pulsing as his wand spun, and pointed toward the door. He dressed hastily and used his fingers to smooth down any stray strands. It just would not do to be seen looking anything less than immaculate. He smiled at himself in the mirror as he took in his appearance. He was a fine specimen of a wizard, even if he did say so himself; as did many of his former conquests. Well, those who lived anyway.

He stepped out of his chambers as his wand thrummed in his hand. He was right; Hermione had found the hidden eighth Horcrux. He just did not understand how she had gained access to it. It was buried deep within the Chamber of Secrets, and only a parselmouth could open the Chamber. However, he knew the temperamental state of this certain Horcrux could cause it to…differentiate from the others. He had been a foolish boy when he had first created the duplicate Horcrux, and had irrationally created an alternate way for his soul to co-exist. While Dumbledore had the mirror of Erised, Voldemort had the Portal of Epoh. It was a perfectly preserved copy of Hogwarts in 1944.

While at the time, it seemed like an ingenious idea, Voldemort was wary of what Hermione had found. The boy who had been preserved in the Portal was a very different version of the man he was today. While they both held the same ideals, and both craved the same world domination, the boy he was then was a lot less…well let's just say, he was marginally more refined.

_____________

The Chamber door swung open and he peered down into the tunnel that led off into the main part of the gargantuan Chamber. His wand was nearly quivering in his hand and he called off the spell as he heard the honeyed tones of his wife. She was in animated conversation with a tall dark haired young man, who in turn was studying her with a look of complete awe stamped across his face.

"So you see, as I've told my husband, after recent events, Bagshot's History of Magic just doesn't make much sense to me anymore," she shrugged.

"And pray tell, Does your husband agree?" asked his younger self.

"He features in half of the events," she snorted, "Of course he agrees,"

"Tell me something Hermione. What am I like in the future?" asked the perfect form of Tom Riddle.

Hermione's face flushed, and she swept her hair over her shoulder. Voldemort could sense his younger self's desire toward his wife. It was quite a pleasant sensation.

"You are extremely handsome, and a wonderful husband, and despite what others think of you, I love you very much," she confessed.

"Love? You love me? Love is a pitiful emotion for the weak. You don't appear to be weak, wife." said Tom.

"Love is a powerful thing. I am in no way weak for loving you."

"Tell me what the great and powerful Voldemort is like as a lover, Hermione. Is he all you had hoped for?" said Tom as he took a step toward her.

Voldemort hesitated, his wand instantly in his hand. Yet he did not get any ill feeling from his younger self, he felt only intense attraction. His heart pounded as Tom trailed his finger over his wife's collarbone, and Hermione whimpered. Voldemort could not take his eyes off the scene as Tom lowered his lips to Hermione's. He felt the arousal fly through him as he watched his wife kiss Tom back, hungrily, her fingers making light work of his shirt buttons.

He could hardly breathe as he watched his younger self fuck his wife; it was like watching a mirror image. Everywhere Tom touched, Voldemort felt it; like phantom pains caused by loss of limb. He could not hide the fact that he was painfully aroused, and becoming more so by the minute. He had never thought about sharing his wife, but it wasn't sharing if it was with yourself now was it?

Voldemort cleared his throat and stepped out of the shadows and Hermione screamed. She tried to scramble as Voldemort hissed to his younger self. I Hold her/I.

"Now, what do we have here? Mrs. Riddle, how very deviant of you," smirked Voldemort.

"I can explain-" she started, but Voldemort shushed her and turned to his younger self who was grinning.

"I think we need to teach _our_ wife a very special lesson," he grinned, viciously, "Don't you agree?"

"Oh yes," Tom said as he looked down on the naked girl in his arms.

He probed her mind, as he peeled off his robes, leaving him bared to her hungry gaze. Her thoughts were erratic and filled with lust. She wanted this. His formerly prim and proper Mudblood was now a submissive little whore, and he could not think of anything better.

His younger self was attacking her nipple with his teeth, and his wife was crying out under his almost torturous advances. He liked to see how far she would let him go, knowing it was just a fraction away from her snapping. The Sex Magic was rampant in the air, and Hermione's body was reacting to it beautifully. Her nipples were crimson in colour and drawn in tightly, accompanying the flush that was creeping up her chest. Her wild mane of curls where flying free now, the charm broken as she writhed underneath Tom.

Voldemort was impressed; he never remembered being this sexually advanced during his school days. Yet he knew he had a lot to teach his younger self about pleasing Hermione.

"Lift her onto her knees," he commanded, and Tom obeyed, hoisting Hermione onto all fours and draping her arms around his neck. "My wife likes to have her pussy fucked orally, now get down there, and make her scream."

Tom grinned and rested Hermione back on Voldemort's chest, licking his lips as he lent down and took a long swipe with his tongue. Hermione cried out, gripping Voldemort's thighs so hard, she drew blood. She was lucky he liked it. She slid forward as Tom buried his face in her pussy, licking and sucking at her dripping slit. Voldemort felt a twinge of jealousy as Hermione wailed, but quashed the feeling as she dragged his head down to kiss him.

She bit and sucked at his lips as her hips thrust erratically; seeking out her release, practically begging. Voldemort ran a hand down her torso and massaged her clit with his thumb and she arched up her breast bared to him like exotic fruit. He snapped, and yanked her hair back and bit down on her neck, and she flew over the edge, coming hard as Tom continued to lick and suck at her as cried out repeatedly.

"Enough," he ordered and Tom withdrew, his face glistening.

"Lick it off, taste yourself," he said as he pushed Hermione toward Tom.

Hermione reluctantly rose to her knees, and took Tom's face in her hands. She licked his face softly, tasting herself, as Tom cupped the round cheeks of her arse. She leaned in to kiss him, and was surprised when a hard slap rang thorough the chamber, and a fiery handprint marred her creamy skin.

"I didn't tell you to kiss him did I?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"I'm sorry…Master," she grinned.

"Spread you legs, facing Tom," commanded Voldemort.

Hermione bit her lip as she looked at her husband.

"Do it!" he shouted, and she felt her arousal flood her system; her skin prickled, and she shivered.

She turned, her back toward Voldemort, and spread her legs, her pussy bared to Tom's eager view.

"I want you to enter her. Don't move until I tell you to," he instructed Tom, who entered Hermione with a groan. Hermione whimpered as her head fell forward onto Tom's shoulder.

Hermione jumped as she felt Voldemort's hands spread her arse cheeks. His fingers probed the tight rosette, and he felt Hermione tense as he slipped a finger past her ring of muscle.

"Relax, my lady," he whispered, reaching for his wand. He muttered a spell, and Hermione felt a cooling sensation flood her back passage.

Hermione hissed as the head of Voldemort's cock pressed against her resisting anus. He pushed forth, inching forward until she cried out. She pushed out as he pushed forward, her arse swallowing him.

"When I thrust you thrust," he told Tom, over Hermione's shoulder.

Voldemort pulled out slightly and thrust back into his wife, and she dropped back onto his chest as Tom surged forward, giving two thrusts for Voldemort's one. Hermione held onto Tom's shoulders as she moved lightly over Voldemort's cock, hissing as her anus tightened around him.

Hermione began to rock her hips as Tom circled his fingers around her clit; his thrusts mirroring Voldemort's. The friction was delicious, and Voldemort could feel the tightening in his balls, and knew his orgasm was approaching. Tom began to thrust erratically into Hermione's silken sheathe, and Voldemort could feel the force of his hips moving; pushing and pulling against his own, as Hermione stood sandwiched between them.

Hermione cried out as she came, her hair thrown back over Voldemort's shoulder; her nails leaving claw marks over Tom's pale back. Her vice like grip on Tom's cock caused the young man to come, and he emptied himself with a guttural moan.

Voldemort eased himself in and out several times, massaging her throbbing clitoris as she fell onto her knees. He came hard within her, her tight rosette brimming with his ejaculate, his cock sliding from her with ease. She was still moaning brokenly as she collapsed onto a transfigured mattress, that Tom had conjured.

"Well that was certainly educational," smirked Tom.

"Yes it was," agreed Voldemort as he looked at his sleeping wife.

"She found me," confessed Tom, as he stroked Hermione's hair.

"I know she did. You are a part of me, and she is drawn to you like she is to the necklace," he mused as he shrugged on his robes.

"Do you plan to keep me down here forever?" asked Tom.

"Forever is a very long time," grinned Voldemort.

"Yes but in my world, there is one added bonus," revealed Tom.

"Oh?" asked Voldemort, "And what is that?"

"Just a meddling old wizard called Dumbledore…." grinned Tom, viciously.

Voldemort always knew he created that Horcrux for a good reason.


End file.
